Conversations
by lovely-fugitive
Summary: The Dream King is summoned by the Chamber of the Ordeal to aid it in maintaining Kel's "obsession" with Blayce the Gallan. The disgruntled Chamber can't simply generate dreams whenever it wants: it has to view Gainel as an ally.


Gainel thought the Chamber of the Ordeal sounded sulky, if that emotion could actually come from the ancient, powerful being. _I need your help,_ it admitted to the Dream King in its dry voice. Gainel stood in what the Chamber displayed as its home to visitors: a vast, flat rocky space drenched in sunlight. He wasn't sure who controlled this dream, only that his own power was helping support it. A dream was the only way, really, for him to meet with the Chamber.

It communicated with the Gods from time to time through conferences like this, although not often and never with Gainel. He was surprised by its insistence that they meet.

_With what? _

_The girl, Keladry of Mindelan, _confided the Chamber. _She has work to do, and I must reinforce it. Nightly._

It explained the vision it had shown Keladry- about Blayce the Gallan and his nightmarish killing devices- after her Ordeal. The devices, made of cold black metal and vaguely shaped like the mythical creatures called spidrens, were powered by a cruel twist of necromancy. Gainel's mouth curled in disdain. Though Kel had no way of discovering this yet, and the Chamber wouldn't- or couldn't tell her- they were fueled by the spirits of children.

The god narrowed his eyes against the onslaught of light that was beating down upon him. Being in broad daylight wasn't his preference since he was bound to the night and darkness, but it didn't truly discomfort him. If he were a mortal man outside in a physical place like this one, he was sure by now his draped, black clothing would leave him sweating. His pale, nearly translucent skin would have been reddened and burnt.

But the Chamber could hear his thoughts, and immediately the broad sky deepened to indigo with a patchwork of glimmering silver stars. Off in the distance the horizon glowed dusky orange and violet. The temperature, because there wasn't one to speak of, didn't change.

A dusty sage-smelling wind whipped at Gainel's cloak. The Chamber was not only sulky, it was irritated. Why- because it couldn't consistently command dreams indefinitely? Gainel had to hide a smile behind a graceful hand. Even though they were communicating mind to mind, and emotions would filter through that bond, he felt more polite if he physically downplayed his amusement.

The Chamber demanded, _Well?_

Gainel abruptly realized that because the Chamber was so used to being intensely powerful during Ordeals of Knighthood, or even when would-be thieves came to the outer Chapel to try and steal its trappings, it was not prepared for the problems that now confronted it. As a knight Kel would be traveling, for one thing, which meant the Chamber would be unable to locate her without outside help. The Dream King's help.

He knew the Chamber could reduce a man to withered skin and bones for attempting to make way with the Sun God's gold that decorated the Chapel. It wielded the power of the Ordeal itself, an event that could break a squire's sanity. Some even died by their own hand afterward. Yet the Chamber's effectiveness relied on proximity. One had to have been inside the Chapel, or gone through the Ordeal, to be subject to the Chamber's plans.

What it was proposing to do to Kel- send her dreams that magnified her terrible vision- was out of its depth. At least, reflected Gainel, it knew that to be true.

_It seems like there are some who are still more crippled than me, _remarked Gainel wryly. _I will help you, if only because these killing devices disturb me. They have me wondering if I have gone too soft on humans, that one of their own could devise such nightmares. _

_They are the work of no god,_ agreed the Chamber, ignoring Gainel's jibe.

In its turn the Chamber could not feel pity, but it was intrigued by this dark, quiet god who had been so limited by his own sibilings. Even it did not know the reasons behind Gainel's restrictions. He could not communicate with mortals unless it was through dreams, and he did not possess the usual powers of the Great Gods. But that left him with a degree of restraint and- more importantly- wit that some gods never cultivated.

_Is Kel marked by one of us?_ Gainel inquired. It wasn't uncommon for him to be the last to know certain things. Mother Flame and Father Universe had never ordained that their children remain open with one another, after all. He felt hesitance radiating from the Chamber.

_Not as your Daine was, _it said at length. _Certainly not as Alanna is_. _But Keladry is to be the Protector of the Small. _Grudgingly, it added, _Humans need more people like her. Ones who seek fairness and justice from the very marrow of their bones. I was the one who felt her potential. Others simply... agree... with me. _Gainel nodded, blending in with the night as it drew darker. His deep eyes glittered, mirroring the stars above him. Once the Chamber had seen fit to modify its environment somewhat, the god was definitely in his element.

_I shall be able to construct the dreams, if you wish it, _said Gainel, running a hand through unruly, long black hair.

He waited for the reply, unsure as to whether or not the Chamber was seeking a true ally or merely a power supply. Naturally, if he could have it, he wanted more autonomy than that. Material for creating Kel's dreams would be easy enough to obtain, particularly if he borrowed from both the Chamber and her own mind. All the gods could read human minds, but none were as adept as Gainel. Dreams were the very essence of a person: a nebulous convergence of their waking thoughts- what they knew to be true- and their subconscious- what lurked under their surface. He had a degree of fluidity in navigating the two that no other god could match.

The Chamber responded regally. _Of course, that would be most pragmatic. There will be times when I need to speak to her myself- though I doubt that will be often, or at the least it will be toward the end of her road- and in those cases I ask only to borrow your favor. _If Gainel wasn't mistaken, the Chamber sounded relieved through its courtly language. Or it could have been mocking him. It was hard to tell with these immortal creatures who were neither god nor flesh, and the Chamber was known to have a sarcastic sense of humor.

_I'll need whatever you know, _Gainel pointed out, pleased by this new challenge. Too often his existence was marked with solitude.

_And thank Mithros, _said the Chamber, _that you can understand time as I do. _

Ruefully, Gainel said, _I don't have him to thank for that._

_Well,_ it clarified, _your mind won't break when I flood it with information. One must be so careful with these humans, even one as advanced as Keladry- _the Chamber didn't even sound very convinced of how advanced she was, noted Gainel- _half the time that's why they lose their minds. I try to show them something which might have happened to them years ago, or something which will happen if they don't alter their current ways, and their stability explodes like a rotting fruit thrown at a man held in the stocks. _

_Not that I have any experience with throwing rotting fruit, _it amended primly. _But you, being a god, will be far better suited to my communications._

* * *

><p>Armed with all the Chamber had to give him concerning Blayce the Gallan, Gainel was once again in the Divine Realms. Although, he mused, he had never actually left them. But he returned to awareness there, wandering along the bramble edged path that led to Weiryn and Sarra's home. It was late evening here too, and he reveled in it. The sky was calm and night birds gave their soft, sweet calls. The air was scented delicately with jasmine and a soft taste of damp earth.<p>

Maybe there was still some supper left- like all the gods, Gainel didn't have to eat. But he was partial to Sarra's cooking- and if there wasn't any food, well, he wanted to be sociable. Once he set his mind to the Chamber's task along with all of his other responsibilities, he probably wouldn't have much energy to spare. He moved silently as a shadow through the brush and clumped dirt, disturbing no leaves and leaving no footprints.

In the mortal realms, he would have only looked to be a tall, thin young man. His dark tunic, hose and cloak would have seemed very somber but not out of place. If anyone looked closer though, they would see that his calm expression held both thoughtfulness and cunning, and the charcoal eyes in their white face glinted with intelligence.

The Dream King smiled, feeling comforted and renewed by the night: he had work to do.


End file.
